


Stranded

by TariTheNurse



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard (Marvel), Being Lost, Bifrost, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluffyfest, Interplanetary Travel, Longing, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Outsider - Freeform, Romance, Stranded, Sweet, Valhalla
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TariTheNurse/pseuds/TariTheNurse
Summary: You can never really know where you find love....or yourself.





	1. Chapter 1

The day has been long and with way too many issues at work to even bother pretending to be a part of real life. That in itself is not something new and explains why you've got a "care package" in the trunk of your car. It doesn't contain a lot, just a few blankets, some chocolate, an energy drink or water (depending on how healthy you are pretending to be at the moment), and a sketchbook with pencils. All of that is the key items you have found out you end up needing when driving off to your "secret" hideaway. It's almost an hour from work and in the opposite direction of where you live, but oh yeah, it's worth it!

You reach the forest in the late afternoon and park the car. About a mile down the official track between oaks and beech trees, you take a left onto the thin track made over decades by deer and other large mammals that tread silently among the trees and past the creek until you reach the hill. It's steep, and you have to hold on to branches and roots to reach the top where the clearing opens up to a world that seems untouched by man. Almost, at least. The noise of cars from the highway further north can be heard dimly, especially now that rush hour has started, but the view across the great lake is undisturbed and the sun beams down merrily for at least three hours still, so you spread out one blanket on the long grasses and settle down after stripping down to only your undies. Why? The question is “why not”. You've still never met a human being out here and you're pretty darn certain the animals don't care.

...

Even with your eyes closed you can feel that the sun has shifted considerably, meaning you must've fallen asleep. Stretching lazily, you inhale the scent of wildflowers carried on the cooling evening breeze. Glancing from under heavy eyelids at the horizon, it surprises you that the sun isn't exactly where it should be...in fact...it seems to be behind you, but that's wrong because that would mean it's morning. After you rub your eyes (several times, just to be sure), you have to admit that the lake isn't there either and now you come to think of it, you've never before been able to see the mountain range from here. It’s all too strange for you to truly fathom.

That's when you hear the voices – so much for no humans around. They could be tourists hiking because they don't speak a language you understand but foreigners or not, you're not ready to appear naked before innocent people. Reaching for your pile of clothes, your hand closes around...grass.

"Fuck."

It's the most intelligent thing you can think of at the moment. The clothes are gone and so is the backpack with the few things you always bring with you out there. There's just the blanket you're sitting on and the undies you're wearing which will be nowhere near enough to cover you decently.

... Loki 3rd pers. PoV ...

For once Thor is the one complaining about the little surveillance-trip that the brothers have been sent out on. Maybe it is because it is mainly Loki's idea, but it could also be due to the fact that the indication for the trip is a "sense of change" which only the younger brother, Frigga, and the Bridge Keeper have experienced without pinpointing further yet. No one would dare question neither the queen's nor Heimdal's powers. Loki's though? Odin has a tendency to disapprove of the prince's use of magic and that has rubbed off on Thor who favours strength above cunning. Bumbling several paces behind, the brute is now loudly complaining while pushing at any old tree he can find just to hear the wood groan at his might.

"This is folly, brother," the blond complains, "leaving Sif and the horses behind just to walk all this way! And why?!"

Loki knows why and has in fact tried to explain it several times already which is the reason Sif refused to go along. Instead of attempting again, he quietly aims for the crest of the slope while the complaints continue behind him. The intangible sensation of something that does not belong draws him into the clearing where the tall grasses and wildflowers bow to the soft evening winds and the rushed flutter of a blanket pulled around a female figure. Stopping in his tracks, Loki takes in the stranger who looks so utterly lost. Big eyes, naked shoulders and arms that cling to the knitted shroud. A stray blade of grass in the hair.

"Hello," the pale prince offers, "do not be frightened, I shan't hurt you. What is your name?"

The pretty head cocks to the side, sparkling eyes squint at him almost as though she cannot believe he is there. At that moment Thor comes trampling out of the treeline, now swinging his axe at the highly hostile blossoms while making idiotic sounds as though he was a child battling an imaginary army.

"Thor...THOR!" The bumbling idiot finally stops to look at his brother. "Lower your axe, you are scaring our...guest."

"Thor?" The voice is meek but clear like water, captivating the attention of both brothers. "Thor...Loki?"

They nod, but if they had expected any further clarifications, they would have been sorely disappointed because the woman begins to laugh. Shy at first then louder and louder until her entire body is shaking. A string of intelligible words pour from her plumps lips, ending with an upwards lilt.

"Do you know the language?" Thor asks.

There is no language within the nearest realms that Loki does not speak, still this one is unintelligible though familiar to him. "Not yet. Stay here." He walks forward, hands spread to the sides to prove he is unarmed in the hopes that the woman will not be scared. "My name _is_ indeed Loki," he speaks softly, "I do not understand your language, so I beg of you to allow me to cast a spell on you."

One step more, then another and...noticing the twitch in her body, the raven-haired god stops, holding out a hand to her instead. The entire world holds its breath as the stranger makes up her mind, looking about as if waiting for an answer that will not come before she moves slowly. The folds of the blanket part, allowing a glimpse of a bare leg as she carefully steps closer. There is a moment of hesitation before she changes the hold on the cover and takes his hand.

Thin silver particles pass between their fingers and enter her bloodstream. She does not panic (which would have been a reasonably logical thing to do) but watches with interest.

"What on earth...?" The incredulity is like sweet honey on the words.

Loki smiles, already two clues richer. "My apologies, my lady." He bows to kiss the soft hand. "I have cast a spell on you to improve the chances of a dialogue."

She does not pull the hand back unkindly, although the look she shoots Loki is hard. "How gullible do you think I am?"

"I beg you pardon?" The urge to reach out for the woman as she steps away is strong and even Thor must realize that things are not going as expected. "I assure you we have no reason to think less of you...nor are we trying to deceive you in any manner."

A scoff, bordering on a snort, clearly proves what she thinks. "Right, so two mythological characters are parading around in the middle of nowhere in a forest on Earth? Yeah right! There's no -"

"Asgard." Thor interjects helpfully.

The wind plays in the leaves, a bird sings goodnight to the last rays of the sun that will reach the hilltop, and the nameless woman stares tiredly from one brother to the other. When she finally does resume to action, it is merely to readjust the knitted blanket and turn away. Treading carefully about, she begins to search for something.

Thor leans over to whisper conspiratorially to Loki after a while. "She truly does not believe us."

"It appears not," Loki admits, "perhaps she would feel safe to come with us if we were in the company of another lady..."

"Sif?" Thor scratches his chin, while considering the options. He is not much for going back to the horses only to go up hill again and then eventually down once more when the girl ultimately, as he voices the concern, refuses to come along. But what other options are there? "As you wish."

… Reader 1st pers. PoV ...

Out of all the weirdoes in the world, at least the two Viking-wannabes seem friendly enough for now….except maybe, the broad dude with the axe. You sigh, unsure what to think of anyone who'd run around with what looks like a _very_ sharp murder weapon. Anyways, you've more pressing matters to attend to because you need your stuff: clothes, shoes, keys, all of it...but you can't find it anywhere in the tall grass. _It probably got lost with my mind_, you bicker at yourself, considering that you almost believe the men.

Everything is wrong. You've come to the little slice of heaven for years and the place you're at now? It's just not "it". There are several similarities, sure, there just happen to be a lot more differences that you can't explain in any reasonable manner.

"Asgard," you huff, widening the perimeter of the search, "as if."

Painfully aware that the men are whispering behind your back, there's nothing comforting about the so-called Thor leaving a bit later. Correction, it's perfectly fine that he leaves, but less so that the slender guy stays…especially the way his watching you like he's trying to learn everything there is to know including your weaknesses and fears and… You stop yourself before you think further just in case the whole spell-casting-thing isn't some weird made-up thing. _Oh, man. _Of course it's made up! There's no such thing as magic and the shimmer when he took your hand was just a trick of the light. Rubbing your hand, it's comforting that it doesn't feel any different.

Your brain keeps searching for all the logical explanations for the things you can't actually explain, and it gets you so wrapped up in theories that you don't notice that the spirally path leads you right up to "Loki" again. Much too close to him, you back away only to step on the hem of the blanket.

It's exactly like in the movies: as if from outside your own body, you witness the slow motion rendition of how you stumble and almost fall. Almost, because Loki somehow swoops you into his arm while also managing to pull the little cover you have around your torso again. And there you are, supported in a stranger's arms gasping in surprise at the nearness of his body and gorgeous face. Turquoise eyes twinkle down at you with mischief and tenderness that you don't even want to recognize while at the same time drawing you in like a moth to the flame. Trying to shift your focus away from the sharp cheekbones and elegant brows, you find a new distraction in his shoulders where your arm is draped around. Oh, he might be slender, but there's absolutely shape under those weird clothes.

"Are you alright, lady…?" His deep voice hangs in the air like the scent of jasmine.

"[Y/N]," you offer lamely, "my name's [Y/N]...and I'm…I'm okay."

If it had been a movie then there'd be a 50-50 chance of a kiss at this point. Thankfully, it turns out the odds are in your favour (or so you remind yourself) and there's no romantic exchange, instead the man helps you get your footing and then he lets go of you.

"Fret not, I will see you safely returned to your home world." Loki probably meant the smile to be reassuring, it ends up as slightly sad instead. "In the meantime, however, may I offer you shelter for the night? And...proper clothes upon arrival at the castle?"

That's how you end up following Loki into the forest, meeting Thor and a fierce looking woman not far from the hilltop, and on until you reach three horses waiting for their owners. Thor and the woman, Sif, are in the saddles and on the move before you can blink, leaving Loki's horse as the only ride. It's a fair way up for a blanket-dressed person.

"I'm a good walker," you start to explain, wanting to remain safely on the ground as much as you hate being a burden.

But the handsome god (because you can't help but think of him as such) is already at your side. "Allow me to assist, lady [Y/N]."

And how can you refuse him when he smiles so kindly and look so worried? A nod, then he's wrapped those big hands around your waist and lifting you so effortlessly you can hardly believe it.

... Loki 3rd pers. PoV ...

[Y/N] fits so snugly against his chest it seems like she belongs there. The first part of the ride, she has been trying to maintain some distance between them, but the rocking motions of the gallop makes it impossible and eventually she gives up. Instead, she busies herself with watching the landscape. Loki can feel how her body tenses and he imagines a frown on her face.

"This...this really isn't Earth, is it?"

_Midgard. _"No, my lady," Loki acknowledges quietly. _She must be frightened by the situation._

Rather than weep or panic, though, [Y/N] speaks calmly. "How did I get here?"

"I am not certain yet…we sensed a shift in the essence of the verses as though something or rather someone passed through the veils."

"Me..."

She lapses back into a pensive silence as the horse carries them across the plains under the darkening sky. The first stars are visible now that the fire of the setting sun has diminished, and the woman looks to the heavens with a sigh. _How does she see our world?_ Already, the prince has been to scores of realms either in times of war or as a diplomatic emissary, and each time he has revelled in studying the foreign cultures as though searching for something he cannot quite identify. He is almost able to place himself in her position as they crest the hill, bringing the palace and surrounding city into view.

“Oh.” The gasp reaches him softly.

Valhalla and the roofs of the many surrounding buildings glitter with gold illuminated by braziers and magic. Beyond the city, the Bifrost appears like a straight, luminescent line of brilliant colours heading for the vastness of space beyond the lone observatory. Under normal circumstances, visitors to the realm of Asgard would arrive there on the edge of the world and follow the rainbow road to the palace. Not this time. _How did a Midgardian come here unaided?_

…

Already before passing through the city gates, Loki has swept his cloak around the maiden to protect her from the night’s cold and now the curious gazes of Asgardians. Under the shielding fabric, there is a slight shift in [Y/N] posture as she presses closer to the only ally she has at that moment. Her heart is beating wildly, her muscles like springs as though preparing to flee…but to where?

“Do no fret, my lady,” Loki whispers, “no harm shall befall you.”

“Some might argue that it already has…otherwise I wouldn’t _be_ here.”

… Reader PoV …

You actually want to stay pissed off at the pompous, medieval, alien of a bastard but everything you see distracts you from it. Asgard, because what else could this place be, is nothing short of magical. You could almost believe it to be actual magic with trees that glow (that turns out to be fireflies, though), and space at the end of a road build of rainbows…your logic won’t buy it though. _There’s no such thing as magic, just science we don’t understand yet._ The argument sounds like a joke as the horses step towards the mighty gates of the castle. _Of Valhalla._

The deep bows performed by anyone you pass aren’t meant for you but the princes and maybe the dark-haired woman. _Sif._ Not the Sif from the myths, though, that’s for sure. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding? This woman looks like a warrior, tall and strong upon the horse, with shield and sword at her sides. There’s no smile on her lips and she’s not once bothered to look at you as opposed to the Asgardians you’ve passed on the way through the city.

Turning slightly to face Loki, you whisper: “Who erm…the stern lady, who’s that again?”

An amused twitch of his lips light his eyes with a sparkle of green. “She is Lady Sif, a dear friend of my brother and me and among the bravest of warriors in Asgard…she is also the grumpiest after having been proven wrong –“

“Wrong?!” A clear voice cuts through from up ahead. “There was _not_, as _I_ pointed out, any tracks or camps indicating the arrival of foreign forces.”

Both men chuckle good-naturedly, and you can’t help adore the rumble passing to you from Loki’s chest. It feels familiar to listen to the three of them teasing each other, feigning horror of being “abandoned alone”, and reminiscing on past rescues where Sif seems to have been more than capable to save the men’s asses. Royalty or not, the friendship is stronger than the ranks, helping you forget that part until it’s time to dismount.

“Brother, lady Sif,” Loki calls out while detangling himself from the cloak and allowing you to keep it, “go ahead and explain mother and the All-Father that we have a guest in need of a caring hand.”

Of course they find the suggestion reasonable, leaving you alone with the dark-haired man. Turquoise eyes beam up at you. _How did he get down there so elegantly?_ Wordlessly, you slide into the waiting arms that bring you safely to the ground only for his hands linger on your waist as you stand impossibly close to him. _Holy smoke, he’s handsome!_ Perfectly sharp lines softened by an almost eerie grace that you would’ve attributed the elves of the fantasy stories you once read. Thin but soft lips made more beautiful by a gentle smile. Hair so black you almost suspect it’s not real hair but magic – magic which you of course don’t believe in. Now he is looking down at you, the eyes have deepened in the shadows until they are endless pools of dark green and midnight blue with silver streaks.

“Allow me,” the perfect man murmurs before adjusting the cloak around you, closing the golden clasp by your sternum.

…

The grand hall with the king on the throne placed at the veeeeeeeeeeeeeeeery far end makes you feel tiny. Not tiny the way a child in a grown up world does, or the way that stargazing will make you feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things. No, this is tiny in the way an insect must feel as the human tries to determine if it’s a mosquito or not. Thankfully, Odin is convinced by more than just Loki that you’re no pest but a frail butterfly that should be nursed and eventually relocated to the natural habitat; and queen Frigga takes charge of your wellbeing, bringing you to a room bigger than your apartment where she provides clothes and food for you before leaving you to do as you please.

Even though the guest room supposedly is “sparsely” decorated it still falls in line with the style of the castle. Woven tapestry covering parts of the bare walls with images of landscapes and plants so vivid it might actually have been portals to those places; soft carpets forming islands on the stone floor upon which heavy furniture of ornately carved wood and golden metals rest; windows offering a view to the palace gardens – a view that is echoed in the enormous mirror above the fireplace. The canopy bed isn’t far from another door which turns out to lead to the bathroom of your dreams. The choice is made. _Bath first._

…

The old, knitted blanket is neatly folded on the bed, looking out of place against the silks and furs but bringing a tad of homey comfort to the weird situation you’re stuck in. The emerald cloak is resting next to it, waiting for a chance to be returned to the rightful owner. Instead of wearing any of those two items, you’ve dressed yourself in the softest tunic and leather pants, a wide strip of emerald cloth wrapping around the waist of the brown and white ensemble. It might not be what the queen would have chosen, but it’s the least foreign you could find in a closet full of dresses and cloaks and it allows you to sit comfortably curled up in the broad windowsill to enjoy the delicate cold meal with the best view.

A knock on the door and a voice calling for you softly. You immediately know who it is and call out for him to enter.

… Loki PoV …

_She does as I do._ All his youth, the prince has favoured sitting by the glass if he could not go outside. To see [Y/N] do the same warms his heart.

“I hope you find everything to your liking?”

His question makes her smile broadly for the first time, melting the frown away that had seemed near permanent since he first laid eyes on her upon the hilltop. The bright eyes never abandoned the curious intellect that captivates him, but to see the glimmer of joy there…perhaps this unwanted adventure will not break her spirit.

“It’s great. Thank you.”

Sliding from the seat, she walks to the bed to pick up something, yet Loki only has eyes for the green sash accentuating the waist and the faint shade of her skin beneath the white tunic. The fabric is wet on the shoulders and the seam of the neck from where the water has soaked in from her hair.

“Here,” suddenly she stands before him, teeth worrying softly at the plump lower lip, “it’s…erm…thanks for letting me borrow…it…”

_How can it be so awkward being near the only one that feels right?_ “My honour, m’lady.”

Fingers brush against each other as he takes the bundle from her, begging him to linger, to say anything merely to hear her voice once more. Electric warmth tingles where she has touched him now and before.

“Why…” she begins, but then must think better of it.

“You may ask anything of me.”

“You call me _my lady_…but I’m not royalty.”

_Neither are you mine, yet my heart sings to you._ “Noble blood is not all there is to being a lady.” The answer elicits the sweetest shyness that heats her cheeks. “And furthermore…I may have a say in who is deemed worthy of titles, so if I wished for you to be a lady…I could sway the powers that be.”

“Oh?” A single eyebrow raises in challenge. “You can do anything? What else can you make me?”

“Happy?”

The magic Loki possesses is not strong enough to undo time, if it was then he would wind back a few seconds now to unsay that single word. The prettiest eyes he has ever been lost in open wide, the lips barely part to free a soft gasp of surprise at his boldness. _Fool!_ The derogatory is far from the only one he mentally yells at himself, already stepping backwards out the door as he tries to formulate an apology.

“Wait…” Frozen in place he cannot bear to look at her. “You already saved me, prince Loki, but I _do_ have a…a…plea…”

There is an unexpected gentleness to her voice, compelling the man to look up with hope. “Anything.”

“Please…show me your favourite place to be on your own?”

… Reader PoV …

You’re wearing his cape again, but this time he has brought one for himself too. The horse you share with him is the same as well just like the nerves that surge through your body from the constant pressure of his chest against your back.

None of you speak as the animal carries you through the city under the curious scrutiny of the citizens. _What are they thinking?_ Hopefully nothing mean. It’s not like you’re likely to get to see (or at least recognize) them again before you’ll be…_what?_ Frigga had promised that you’d be brought home, but that the king must see to the safety of his so-called realm first – in this case by gleaning some information from you or the place you had arrived at. There was no doubt the kind treatment mainly is due to the friendliness of the queen and her sons. _Her son._ Yes, despite the generous hospitality you have convinced Loki to take you away from the safety of the gorgeous room at your disposal on some impulsive whim that has you begging for the familiarity of your hill…but that hill is worlds away and you could only think of one person understanding what you might need.

While you’ve been pondering, the city has drifted away behind you, allowing the horse to gallop full speed in the broken darkness where everything appears in tones of grey. Maybe it knows the way. Maybe Loki is that good of a rider. Regardless, you feel safe under the alien stars as the creature thunders along an unseen road and onto a beach. There’s a steady rumble of waves sloshing against the shore, splashing high enough to wet your bare feet. Far beyond the waters, though not as far as you would expect, is the endlessness of space dazzling you.

Warm breath fans your chin for a second before it’s swept away. “Merely a moment longer, my lady.”

He is true to his word, of course. When you dismount, you follow a path off the beach to the top of a scraggy cliffside and continue no more than a couple of meters around a boulder until the two of you reach a natural shelf with the night sky reaching above and beyond. Constellations of stars (similar and different from those seen from home) make room for swirling galaxies the closer to the horizon you look.

“This is…” you try to explain the calming effect the place has on you only to find words aren’t enough.

It fuels a longing for somewhere you don’t know yet while giving you a sense of belonging because really…what else is there? Places, planets, will come and go through the endless eons while you’re nothing but a tiny blip that has been granted the chance to witness the vastness of it all, to be a part of it, and form the lives of those around you whichever way you see fit. It’s comforting that nothing you can do will be so bad they can mess up the grand scheme of things, while daunting to know that the time you have is full of endless possibilities.

“I know.”

Behind you, Loki has spread out a roll of fur on the ground for you both to sit on, leaning calmly against the cliff with his long legs stretched before him. Absurdly aware of your body, you join him while carefully keeping just a few inches of distance.

None of you try to fill the time with speaking, that’s not the reason for this place to exist. Cosmic clouds show off the brilliance of the newborn stars they hold while suns belonging to other planets blink as if sending signals in Morse code. A particular bright one has a green glow to it that reminds you of the eyes of the man beside you, and the thought alone sends a fluttery cascade of excitement through your chest.

_This is ridiculous!_ A night bird tests the quiet air from somewhere further in land. _I can’t be falling for him…it’s just…just the foreign feel of it all. _The haphazard notes take shape of a gentle melody which quiets your frantic mind. How silly of you to think that there are any other feelings at play here than those logically ignited by being stranded.  
On a planet from old Norse mythology.  
Surrounded by people that have been known and sort of forgotten by humans for a thousand years. _All very logical, yes._ Sighing, you allow your head to fall back against the stone and the more normal-looking stars twinkle above.

“I am sorry, lady [Y/N].”

Glancing over, you can see how he’s looking at you with concern. “You don’t need to call me lady…just [Y/N] is fine.”

The nod and smile are subtle but still manage to send waves of warmth from your toes to the top of your head. “Very well…” the prince concedes, “allow me to forego formalities completely.”

“O-okaaay…”

“It is nigh impossible for any of us to understand how you must feel.” He covers your hand that’s resting on your thigh, sending electricity tickling through your veins. “And I fear I may be out of place when I confess…it warms my heart to have brought you some comfort by sharing this place with you.”

Loki has turned towards you, leaning close enough for you to wish for more as the mesmerizing eyes draw you in. If only you were to stretch a little extra. Or maybe let your fingertips brush the stray locks of black hair from his face. All the wonders of the universe seem to fade away as your hand moves on its own and the gentle man’s face comes closer yet to yours almost like he –

“My son.” The voice belongs to the queen. “Lady [Y/N].”

Seconds later, Frigga slips past the boulder and into view of Loki, who already has jumped to his feet, and you. Your face is burning, but at least the starlight won’t reveal neither that nor the harsh scolding you give yourself silently.

… Loki PoV …

Naturally, mother insists on being chatty company on the way home. She even takes it upon herself to see first [Y/N] to the room too before looping her arm into his and leading the way to his chambers. The prince knows Frigga is preparing to say something and that the sudden silence is a sign of her choosing her words carefully…after all, she is the true diplomat in the relationship with Odin.

“What is it, mother?” Loki sighs, knowing that the last paces to his door will not save him. “Do you not appreciate our guest?”

“Oh, my dear, you know I do,” she pokes him teasingly, but her face regains the severe calmness just as quickly as the joy had flared, “yet as you say…she is merely our guest. Lady [Y/N] comes from another world to which she must return.”

Although the words are true, Loki finds he is loath to hear them. People throughout the verses move from one place to another every day in the hope of finding shelter, work, or even love. As the second son, should it be impossible for him to do the same if he was wanted elsewhere? _If I ask her…would she…?_ But Odin would refuse any possibility, leaving only one option.

“Of course,” tracing the line in his palm as though nothing of import was being discussed, he shrugs, “that is to be expected. She belongs on Midgard.”

“Loki, my son, please listen to me.” Stopping them both, Frigga grabs his hands in both of hers. “The Midgardians live short lives. Burning bright until their light is snuffed out all too soon whereas we live for thousand of years with the ghosts of their memories and a hollow ache left in their place. Please, protect yourself…let her go.”

Stunned at Frigga’s words, there is no answer readily available to the normally sharp-tongued god. _Is this experience talking?_ But his mother has already kissed his cheek and left his side without giving Loki an opportunity to ask the many questions burning in his heart.

…

He brings [Y/N] to the garden the next day to enjoy the sun beaming down upon the fragrant lilies and roses of any colour. Again, she has chosen the simple clothes of trousers and tunic (this time one of light yellow silk) fitted with a sash, catching surprised glances from passing servants and members of the court which [Y/N] deftly ignores. Walking barefoot over the grass, she begs to know about life on Asgard and Loki is more than happy to tell. Nearly forgotten tales of mischief from his childhood are recovered and exchanged in return for a bubbling laughter echoed by the cheerful melodies of thrush and lark. As evening draws near, casting the garden in cool shadows, they are still deeply engrossed in conversation when Frigga finds them.

“Lady [Y/N],” the queen smiles sweetly, “I do apologize for interrupting such pleasant times…however, I do insist that you are made ready for tonight’s feast.”

“Feast?” A glimmer of anxiety widens the guest’s [Y/E/C] eyes. “Made re- erm…how so, your majesty?”

Loki stands to bid them goodbye, knowing that this is a moment for his mother to explain what has been arranged for the night, and although the prince would love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation, he himself has been lax in regard to the day’s tasks.

….

Unable to detain himself any longer, the youngest prince has already made his way to the dining hall in hope of distractions in the company of his brother, lady Sif, and the Warriors Three. Together, they form a merry group of friends where honesty is valued regardless of rank, normally leading to witty banter.

“Loki…Loki!” Fandral pokes the prince in question on the shoulder. “Where is your mind, my friend?”

He is not ready to admit it, but the raven-haired man had been lost in the memory of the glow of the Midgardian’s skin as she basked in the sun earlier that day. All through the chores, Loki had found himself unfocused, earning him more than one tumble during sparring as Thor now reveals.

Sif considers the subject of the laughter with a smirk on the lips. “One might think it’s the presence of the lady [Y/N], or am I wrong?”

“I always take an interest in our guests and their well being.” A simple answer meant to hide the flutter in his heart at the mere mention of the foreign woman.

“Does that mean, little brother…” Thor’s heavy arms lands around the shoulder of the sibling, “…that you do not find anything particularly compelling about…_that._” With those words, he spins Loki around to face the doors at the far end.

There is no need to search for what (or rather: who) the crown prince refers to, and Loki allows the world around him to fall away with the exception of her. _Her._ The sweet memory of [Y/N]’s voice as she laughed in the garden grows in power, becoming a summon controlling Loki’s heart and soul. _How…when did it come to this?_ Frigga’s warning is not forgotten, yet…how can she know? The risk of abandoning a love like the one he is feeling, to never live as true and blessed as his existence could be at her side must be far crueler than spending the summer in her sun before facing the winter of his life alone.

_Love? No…I should not give in._ But then [Y/N] smiles at him and he is lost.

… Reader PoV …

Frigga had promised to help you get ready…you had just never in your wildest dream imagined how much that would entail. At least the queen is lovely and intelligent company. Very intelligent. Maybe Asgardians can read minds (or at least they’re intuitive) because it wasn’t not long before she had you spilling the secret you’ve barely dared admit to yourself, the two of you chatting like you had been friends all your lives. It had felt good. Splendid, actually, because home on earth there’s no one for you like that.

And now? At this moment, none of the confidence-inducing cheerfulness is left within you as you set foot in the dining hall, once again reminded of the fact that you’re an alien stranded in a fairy tale full of magic and heroes. Every one of the Asgardians in the room is oozing with majestic grace. _They belong._ You’re a cheap copy although Frigga has dressed you in the most beautiful dress of gold and blue before fitting you with jewels to match. At the time you had felt like a princess, now you want to hide. Scanning the crowd, you try to find the queen, hoping that she will be occupied by someone, allowing you to slip away – you see Loki instead.

…

Your prince, as you’ve teasingly taken to call Loki in return, has been at your side all night and time has passed in the blink of an eye. Eyes of turquoise green that see into your soul even now as you walk slowly through the moonlit garden to cool down.

_I’ll miss him._ The thought is unwelcome, tarnishing the joy you’ve experienced at the feast where the princes and Sif have introduced you to their friends, all of them including you in the raucous company as though you were one of them. _I wish I was._ It’s an impossible dream, made all the more dismal by the sense of belonging you feel around Loki.

“Lady [Y/N],” his voice wavers slightly as he strokes a wetness from your cheek, “do not be saddened…I promise your safe return home.”

_But that’s not what I want_. “Sorry…d- I…sorry.” Tearing away, you stumble half-blinded by the sudden tears down the first path available but soon find yourself at a dead end among the roses.

_How could I be so stupid?!_ Wiping angrily at your face to stop the blubbering, you try to recall all the good reasons for going back to Earth…there just aren’t any that you wouldn’t be able to replace. No family or friends to speak of anymore. And sure, the work and colleagues are alright but it’s nothing that brings you a sense of home.

“[Y/N]?” It doesn’t scare you that Loki is much closer than anticipated. “It pains my heart to see such sorrow,” he mumbles while folding you in his arms, “I will do anything in my power to…to…”

Words falter and instinct takes over. Holding your close, he tugs your head against his shoulder. Strong fingers stroke your back and head gently while you calm down, and you slowly become aware of the kisses your prince plants of your hair and temple.

“Thank you, Loki.” A soft whisper is all you can muster.

“Always, my love.”

Both of you freeze for a second, unsure if he really has spoken those words, but when you lift your head to meet his gaze there’s no doubt. Nothing needs to be said or explained, the silence allowing a calming warmth to grow inside your chest. You can feel your heart swell. Heal. When his lips meet yours (hesitantly at first) it makes your soul sing.

“Please.” Breaking away briefly, Loki gasps. “Stay with me…or let me come with you! We well find a way.”

There is barely time to answer and you hope the renewed caresses speak for you. “Always.”


	2. Part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some drama and feels but mostly fluff. Also...this might sort of seem like it's calling for a third and final part, but really it's up to you guys.

Pacing back and forth, Loki only listens half-heartedly to the nonsensical babble of his friends. Lady Sif is entertaining Thor and the Warriors Three with her latest news from the training of the newest guard – she had assisted Tyr in a mock battle which he and his team had lost.

“Loki?” the victorious warrior call out.

The long strides carries the prince in question to the door where he has to turn around. “Yes, marvellous. Well done, lady Sif.”

Raucous laughter finally causes Loki to pause.

“Oh, brother mine,” the deepest voice hollers, “your thoughts are _so_ far astray a _skirmish_ may break out and you would not notice.”

Fandral, at least, finds a smidgen of compassion. “Is it the fate of the Midgardian that troubles you?”

There is understanding to be found despite the mirthful twinkle in his eyes and Loki admits to the worries. The Midgardian has been called before the All-Father, interrupting the stroll through the gardens that she and the raven-haired prince were enjoying after lunch. The two of them spend nigh all their waking hours in the company of each other as though each day is the last, they have together – it may as well be because lady [Y/N] is bound to return to her homeworld sooner rather than later.

_Always._ A word spoken so easily, taking their willing hearts captive. But always and forever will end eventually, Loki knows, as his father is ill-inclined to allow the use of Bifrost for the youngest son to travel to and from Midgard once [Y/N] has returned to a home she has no longing for.

“But this is simple!” Despite Volstag’s enthusiasm, the rest of the chamber’s occupants wait silently for him to elaborate. “If you cannot go to her then she must stay here.”

Loki frowns. “As much as I would love this, we all know how Odin’s attitu–“

“Yes, yes!” Fandral picks up on his friend’s idea. “A young maiden can easily be disguised among the people of Asgard or Vanaheim for a while until the All-Father’s attention has shifted and he has forgotten about the foreigner –”

“– at which point the young prince conveniently forgets the cause of his broken heart when he finds a new love,” Volstag completes, the two friends beaming.

… Reader …

You had decided with yourself on the very first night in Asgard that you like Frigga. The queen is kind, smart, and wonderfully wise to the point where you’re beginning to suspect that she’s got a lot more to say in terms of the affair of the kingdom than she officially is supposed to. Right now that’s a good thing. Sitting face to face with king Odin all on your own would have been nerve wrecking (the guard in full armour and with a fabulous but rather lethal looking spear might not help either) so you’re thankful for Frigga’s presence.

_I wish Loki was here._ It’s not the first time the thought presents itself during the audience, but you try your best to keep calm. _This is about him too, though._ Odin is ignoring that detail quite brilliantly, however, as he talks about your future without pausing for you to get a word in.

The thing is: as a so-called Midgardian, you’re not supposed to have come to Asgard at all. Now that you happen to be there, the quasi-mythological ruler is worried if other people might suddenly pop up from either Earth or anywhere else, really, and as you haven’t been able to explain how you managed the trip…well, it’s hard to put that concern to rest.   
The next point that Odin wants to discuss (or rather, monologue) is how you were to handle the knowledge you now have of Valhalla and the “realm” once you do return home. At this point, you take a risk by interrupting the old god to promise that of course you wouldn’t say anything to anyone, and at least Frigga supports you (and further adds that no one would believe you anyways which hurts but is true). Odin? Not convinced.

A song you can’t quite remember enough of keeps bouncing around in your brain: _Should I stay or should I go now…_unfortunately, you can’t recall more of it so it only adds to your frustration. Seeking Frigga’s gaze, you’re seconds away from losing your temper.

“Perhaps, then, we must consider the simpler of two options?” Frigga winks quickly at you, making sure her husband doesn’t see. “It appears to me the best solution would be to have [Y/N] stay. I am certain that she can make herself useful, and although it will be hard to leave everything behind…it time, she might find happiness here?”

You don’t dare to say anything or even breathe as you wait for Odin to make up his mind.

Tugging softly at the beard, the king mumbles to himself. “It would eliminate the risk of the wrong people obtaining any information, exploiting it…”

“Indeed, dear husband.” Frigga has clearly counselled like this before. “Of course…accommodating lady [Y/N] need not be your concern. Such trivial matters could be dealt with by, say, Loki?”

The beard gets an extra tug before the god lights up with a smile, his eye nearly disappearing between the wrinkles. “He has taken quite an interest in you, has he not?” For a second, you recognize Thor in that face.

“Y-yes, your highness, prince Loki-i is very uhmm kind to me.” _Nooo, why do I have to stammer?!_

“So it shall be,” Odin declares with a grand gesture, “you must remain here...or on Vanaheim if that is more agreeable. Loki will be informed of this and he shall be in charge of your settlement.”

To his right, Frigga winks again, a mischievous smile at the corner of her mouth. “Do not worry, dear girl, I will be delighted to ensure everything is fine.”

It’s clear the audience is over and you get up, making sure to bow (which makes the king guffaw quietly) and thank them both before you rush out.

Every cell of you is aching for Loki with the exception of your braincells that are working overtime to make sense of what just happened. _I’m staying?_ Odin never asked what you wanted and maybe he knew already from the queen whom you’ve talked a lot with about your home and the situation there, but it still feels odd to have someone else make a decision on your behalf as though it isn’t actually your life at all. _But…I wanna stay._ Pausing briefly next to a statue of a stern-looking Viking, you feel the warmth of the golden metal reflected in your chest and stomach. Yeah, staying feels right. For a moment, you bask in the soothing serenity that everything only can get better from now on.

_But…what if…?_ A new wave of disastrous possibilities rise to engulf you, drown out the joy. Fighting the tide is useless as you own mocking voice pokes fun at you and questions everything you might just have gained. What if Loki doesn’t really want you around? Or if he does, for how long then? A simple “Midgardian” really can’t hold his interest for very long, the sing-song voice in your skull jeers.

A strong arm wraps around your shoulder, bulging muscles squeezing a bit too tight for comfort as they pull you into the shadows behind the golden statue. Too surprised to say anything, you automatically follow the order to remain quiet whispered by a deep voice.

Thor peers at you with gleaming eyes. “Lady [Y/N],” the whisper sounds like a distant rumble of thunder, “do not be alarmed.”

_Easy for you to say!_ The heart is stuck in your throat, hammering frantically. “Oo-kay?”

… Loki …

Urging the stead out of the stables, the young prince resigns to the fact that he will not have a chance to double-check the hastily packed supplies - at the very least the trip to Vanaheim should not last more than a few days, though, now that any official passages are out of the picture.

Loki lingers for a few seconds, looking wistfully at the golden-capped towers of Valhalla before he spurs the horse into a gallop out of the city.

Leaving has never been this hard before. He knows he will return, forced to keep up the charade until the All-Father has forgotten the incident of the Midgardian intruder, but in this very moment, he has left the fate of his true love in the hands of his friends.

The plan is simple. Loki will wait until the cover of darkness at which point Fandral will smuggle [Y/N] out of the castle. Thor will stay behind to distract their father and mother, however in case that is not enough then Lady Sif, Hogun, and Volstag will remain as well to give credibility to any scenario established to throw the king (and potentially Heimdal) off the tracks.

The raven-haired prince prefers to leave with his sweetheart (and argued vehemently for this until Sif commented that he would be the first to be kept under observation as soon as Odin’s mind was made up). No, it will be better that he already is out of sight, and as he is needed to navigate the hidden paths between realms, then this is the only other option.

…

_No rest for the wicked._ Anxiously pacing around and around the same tree, Loki’s mind is a mess and his guts are filled with alternatingly lead and butterflies. There has been no comfort in the company of his steed as the animal has found a patch of sorrel collecting the evening dew. Now the last bird sings goodnight, ending its tune on a soft twirdle that echoes through the dusk before stilling.

The shadows grow deep. Loki’s horse decides it is time to settle in for the night, rubbing the saddle that lies on the ground into position before lying down with its head upon the embossed leather. The man walking in circles find no rest.

When a light finally can be seen, moving between the trees as a glowing orb entrenched by sharp teeth of darkness, Loki’s heart stops. _One horse._ He supposes it shouldn’t surprise him. Do Midgardians ride horses nowadays? A tentative breath makes room for normal breathing until he realizes that the single horse only has no rider while merely a single shape walks beside it. _Fandral…where is [Y/N]?_ It is as though a bottomless crevasse open before Loki’s feet, invisible currents trying to pull him in, making him stagger as he steps forward to wards the blond man.

“Where is she?” Loki is aware how his voice shakes, but it does not matter. “Has Odin sent her away already?”

The mischievousness beneath the gentle smile is similar to Loki’s own, yet he cannot abide the sight of it and nearly looses his temper before Fandral finally answers. “As surprising as it may be, our carefully laid plan turns out to be unnecessary for a different reason. Come, my friend.”

… Reader …

You’re steaming with indignation, but thankfully for your surroundings a sense of appreciation for the (misplaced) helpfulness is creeping in…or maaaybe it’s the abashed apologies on repeat from Thor.

He’d scared the life half out of you when he grabbed you, and pretty spot on compared to the myths the guy had carried on with the “plan” without listening to any of the objections launched at him with an increasing amount of violence. Admittedly, your fists probably weren’t the worst pain he’s imagined through his life. It wasn’t until you’d been brought to the rest of the gang that you get a word in, stopping the outrageous escapade.

“We truly _were_ just trying to –“

“I _know_!” You interrupt Thor a bit harsher than intended. _Oops._ “I know and I…I’m _thankful_…it’s just…” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose for a moment, “perhaps it’s best to ask next time if the help _is_ needed?”

The blond warrior slash god has the decency to agree before making himself scarce to see if someone elsewhere needs any help.

Left alone, you finally have a chance to look around the room. It’s not your own but Loki’s and although you’ve been in there before, it’s the first time you really have the time to look around – or more correctly, it’s the first time you’re not being distracted by Loki in all his kind and brainy splendor.

…

Mesmerized by one of the few books you can actually read (honestly, you’d just wanted a peek to see what sort of literature the god likes) the sound of running footsteps barely manage to register with you before the door is slammed open to reveal a dishevelled Loki in front with a Fandral and Thor behind (both looking appropriately apologetic, still).

“[Y/N]…”

The silver tongued prince is rarely in lack of the right thing to say and you would have felt smug about it if it wasn’t for the desperation in his eyes. Large, roaming your face and shape in sign of any sign of distress before they light up with the intensity of a winter’s sun, stealing your breath away and making your knees go soft. An impractical change as you’ve just stood up. But of course, within a split second he’s there, practically sweeping you off your feet and into a lover’s embrace, lips meeting soft and hungry.

When next you become aware of your surroundings, it’s nice to see that the door has been closed to provide the two of you with some privacy.

“I thought…” Loki’s breath fans your cheek and neck. “If only I had dared to imagine father would let you stay…”

Pulling back slightly to kiss his nose, you share the anxious shiver of what could have been. “Your mom probably had something to do with it, to be fair.”

“I shall be sure to thank her.” He is somehow able to lift you and carry you to the bed without getting tangled in the dress you’d been told to wear today by a maid, and for a second it’s like you’re a real princess. “My love.” The plush mattress rises to hold you instead as the gentleman of a god kneels before you. “I could not stand the risk of losing you, not now and not ever…” _Waaaaait a second…_ “I have no token to offer you in this moment as a symbol of my undying love, yet I must ask…” At this point you’re certain you feel your brain implode. “Will you take me as your husband?”


	3. Happily ever after

It’s been less than a week since you accepted Loki’s proposal, but it already seems like the entire kingdom knows about it even if the two of you had tried to keep it from everyone else. Strangely, Loki’s parents don’t condemn what could appear like a hasty decision, and Thor…well the man’s so happy you’d think he’s the one getting married.

“– and I’m just saying I didn’t expect Odin to be so chill!” Plopping down on a settee, your fingertips immediately find the new gold band around the finger.

Loki’s lounging on the bed, one long leg stretched while the other is bend to support a rather heavy book (a historical dissertation, he’s explained when you asked). When he glances up from the dusty pages there’s an amused smirk on his face.

“Chill? I presume you mean to say that father is taking the news calmly?” Your assent both makes him chuckle (probably at the Midgardian expression) and frown. “The king can be…abstruse. Complicated.” Loki hesitates, filling the pause by putting the book aside. ”Growing up near the glory of him and Thor it has oftentimes felt as though my father…in spite of his wisdom…was unsure what would become of me. Thor has always been destined to inherit the throne and there have been plenty suitors already trying to appease him and my parents…”

“You can’t expect me to believe you haven’t had your share of _interested parties._” The last words are enounced with enough sarcasm even for an Asgardian to understand it – thankfully Loki gets that kind of humour.

“Intere_sted_? A few, that is true.” Keen eyes pin you to the seat. “Inte_resting_, however…now that is a different matter entirely.” He’s on his feet and stalking towards you in the blink of an eye. “Perhaps the king and queen have come to the same conclusion as I have…” Loki purrs as he scoops you up like a baby, making you squeal in equal parts delight and terror, “that you, lady [Y/N] of Midgard, are the one to forever hold my interest _and_ heart.”

It’s a personal kind of heaven to kiss him, the thin lips molding softly against yours before his tongue slips in between to tease and draw out a moan – quiet and begging for more without words. The tenderness shies away for the sake of a deep-seated hunger that ignites deep in your belly and guides your hands to his shoulder and to the black hair that feels like silk between your fingers as you tangle the locks in a determined grip. When he groans, you’re the one to swallow the bliss.

“My love,” Loki’s voice breathes raggedly, “never doubt the hold you have on my soul and body.”

… Time skip …

A year. The time has passed both slow and quick, often surprising you when something has made you realize how long Valhalla has been your home and finding a purpose as a kind of revolutionary when it comes to the schooling of the young ones – Asgard favours home schooling which has very mixed results. And after having arranged and carried out a few classes focusing on “Midgardian” culture (the aspects you are familiar with), there was more than enough interest in establishing an actual school.

It has been a year full of learning for you too. Leaning about everything Asgardian but also about yourself…including how to deal with situations you would have deemed archaic. An example is how you and Loki aren’t supposed to share a bedroom until the wedding night, and sure, there isn’t an actual chaperone assigned to you, but there might as well be because someone is always conveniently nearby, preventing the peace of mind needed for more than kisses (amazing kisses, admittedly) which adds to a growing sense of frustration.

A year. Neither you nor Loki have had a problem with waiting with the wedding till then. You both know, deep inside your souls, that time is on your side and so there’s been no other rush than what your bodies have made you feel.

Tomorrow the wait will end.

… Loki …

Staring at the page, the groom has not been able to take in any of the words although the Midgardian poetry normally fascinates and moves him with ease. Today, however, his mind is full of nervous thoughts and his belly infested with butterflies at the prospect of saying or doing something wrong during any part of the ceremony – especially the vow Loki has chosen for [Y/N]. _It must be perfect!_ In his eyes, the woman deserves everything he can give and much more because he fears how alienated she might feel at times. Today will be no exception, and it is for this reason he has studied the Midgardian traditions with the hope of fusing elements from both worlds into one harmonious event.

A fist connects with Loki’s upper arm. “Where is your mind at, little brother?” Thor has entered the room, unheeded by the occupant.

“It is here now.” Loki closes the book, knowing that he will not get any reading done. “What do you want?”

“Me? I wish to see my brother happy and wed!” The azure eyes nearly disappear due to the size of the smile that splits Thor’s face. “Come, it is time.”

… Reader …

Without a family of your own, it’s been a huge comfort to have Sif and The Warriors Three during the past year and you’d been wise enough not to challenge them when they announced they would be representing you during the wedding day. Sif has (although shadowed by Frigga) cast aside any of the normal annoyance with things classically “female” (even here on Asgard it’s rare for women to wear trousers and fight) and ensured to go all in to guide you through the preparations for the big day.

“Now remember,” the doe-eyed woman admonishes, “breathe, keep your head high, do as we have rehearsed.”

You nod, too nervous to voice any of the many concerns swirling in your head. It’s making you dizzy. The anticipation, the multitude of catastrophic mistakes you can make, the giddiness, and of course the fear that..._what if I wake up and it’s never been real?_ But the firm squeeze from Sif’s had has to be proof it really is true. All of it.

“I feel –“ But you never get further as there’s a knock on the door.

“That must be Fandral!”

It’s not. It isn’t Loki either, much like the Nordic cultures the Asgardian groom isn’t meant to see his wife on the day before the ceremony – gods knows it’s been a long day since you parted this morning. No, it’s Frigga who strides through the door, clad in a shimmery gown in the same cut as Sif’s though embellished with golden drops has been sprinkled all over the sky-blue material. Still she’s the one to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of you.

“Oh, what a vision you are, my dear,” the queen breathes, politely ignoring Sif’s smug grin.

“Thank you, your highness.”

“Tsk! Soon the use of titles will only be necessary during official events.” The mother-in-law-to be is tugging away a strand of you hair from the elaborate braid, then smoothing a nonexistent crease on your dress. “You will have a title on your own.”

“It’s strange…all I wanted was to be with Loki, I don’t care about the rest!”

Afraid that you might have gone too far, you start to sputter an apology, but Frigga stops you before sending Sif outside for a moment. When the door closes behind the vermillion-dressed friend, you realize that you’re holding the breath and the palms are clammy from sweat.

Blue eyes, not dissimilar to Thor’s, find yours. Kindness, warmth, happiness overflow. “We know. Loki knows…and he wanted me to pass you this token.” Drawing out an emerald ribbon, she moves behind you to tie it in the hair.

It matches your outfit. Of course it does. The dress you wear is soft and flowy, made out of layer upon layer of the thinnest, translucent silks to create a shimmer of delicate greens only broken by the golden and darker green embroideries at the waist and rising from the base trim to resemble delicate leaves. A flower crown sits lightly on your head with the same colours.

“There, my child,” Frigga smiles, leading you to the mirror that you’ve already frequented more than you care to admit, “our Midgardian princess.”

She’s right: you look…stunning. The last year of wearing luxurious clothes (and increasingly often wearing dresses too) has been hopelessly inadequate to prepare you for looking the part. It’s a stranger staring back from the mirror. A strong woman who actually has gone off, leaving a drab life behind in favour of a life with a purpose together with someone who makes her feel important.

…

Fandral pats your hand gently. Perhaps it’s as reassurance, but it could also be to have you lighten the hold you have of his arm now you stand before the doors to the throne room with shaking knees. He too has assured you of the joy everyone feels – kind words falling on an ear deafened by nerves, but there’s no time to go back even if you wanted to because the doors open to reveal thousand of people standing on either side of a petal-covered isle leading towards the throne and the royal family.

There he is, dressed in the same colours as you. _Loki._ The moment you see him, calmness wells in your chest and extinguishes the fray of a storm that had raged within you. Negative thoughts and disastrous imagines evaporate, and a boldness returns at the sight of the prince dropping his jaw. _Oh yeah, you’re one lucky guy,_ you grin to yourself, straightening your back and neck.

It’s the longest walk of your life before Fandral finally and step aside, placing your hands in Loki’s for the ceremony to begin.

Odin starts the whole thing of with a long and convoluted speech before finally allowing the siblings Frej and Freja take over. They talk almost as one, a perfectly choreographed sing-song story of the meaning of marriage as a sacred pact to ensure life and happiness, while tying yours and Loki’s joined hands with emerald ribbons adorned with flowers. Once the final knot has been completed, both she and her brother back off to the thunderous applause of all Asgardians…or at least those with their hands free.

“My wife,” Loki begins softly before turning his head to the crowd to address them, “there is a tradition in Midgard where the bride and groom prepare a personal vow to their partner. It is a sweet gesture which I have become inspired by, so hear these words and witness my love for princess [Y/N]!” Now the everchanging eyes are on you again. “[Y/N], my love. You came to me with nothing…yet became my everything. All that I am and all that I have is yours from this day on and it shall be my duty, nay, my honour to guarantee your eternal happiness for as long as you wish. A year ago, you took my heart. Today I give you my body and soul.”

_Damnit._ You’d promised yourself not to start crying but now the first tear is running down your cheek and even if it would be convenient to say it’s because Frigga and Thor’s tears have gotten to you then that probably wouldn’t be entirely true. People are still aweing and cheering. For a second it seems impossible to be heard, however nothing could be further from the truth as you clear you throat, conjuring a hush that settles over the many on-lookers.

“My husband.” Your voice shakes a little, but Loki looks as though it’s the sweetest sound. “I have no riches to share, but all that I am and will be is yours. Through sickness and in health, through good days and bad, I will stand beside you to support, cherish, and love you, in this life and the next if you will accept me.”

Face tilted slightly up towards Loki, none of you bother keeping the kiss strictly chaste. Through half-closed eyes, you’re dimly aware that the garland tying you together begins to glow until the brightness fills the entire throne room and the ribbon with all of its flowers is gone although you can feel the bond remains.


End file.
